Limerence
by DomesticatedWerewolves
Summary: Can it really be called an unhealthy obsession if it helps him continue on with his day-to-day life? Crushshipping - Hiroto Honda x Shizuka Kawaii x Ryuuji Otogi


Why. Whyyyy.

Oh _fine_.

**Season Ten, Round One: **_Crushshipping - Hiroto Honda x Shizuka Kawaii x Ryuuji Otogi. _Wow, this was…a surprise.

Why do I do this to myself, especially around midterms?

**Summary:** Can it really be called an unhealthy obsession if it helps him continue on with his day-to-day life?

I get most of my writing done in my Brit Lit class. I am clearly the best student ever.

xxx

**Limerence **

**One-Shot**

xxx

The chocolate was full of that tangy sweet orange crap that made his molars grind together. The chocolate itself made his throat itch. It made him sick.

His room was quiet. He could hear and feel the blood run up one side of his neck and down the other; his heartbeat was a constant and strong _tum-thump_. It was times like this, when he was alone, that made him feel the worst. The possibilities of what other people were doing, the suspicion that his friends could be getting together behind his back (_no that is a horrible thing to think don't think about that_) and then the self-loathing from ever considering such a thing, all added up to a night spent wallowing in his own emotional filth.

The next one was better, but the aftertaste of the orange stuff was still lingering in his mouth. The first signs of nausea tickled the very back of his throat, and he pushed the box away. He knew he should be doing work, either for school or for the shop, but his most selfish desires told him to lie in bed, doing nothing, thinking about nothing. Maybe coming upon the subject of his life choices occasionally, but really only listening to sad American songs and staring at the whorls in the plaster on his ceiling. Nothing truly productive.

Otogi indulged himself. Lying on his side, he dozed a little, soothed by self-pity. He curled up, the weight of his head pressing one headphone uncomfortably into his ear, not really caring. He touched his knuckles to his lips, feeling the cool skin. His fingers were stiff.

He thought about the homework he should be doing. He imagined her there, sitting in the desk chair, urging him to get up off his ass (though not quite so crudely) and do his work. _Otogi, this isn't like you. Are you alright?_

I just want you.

Rolling out of bed for just a moment, he grabbed his geometry book and crawled back in. Underneath the covers. Flannel sheets. A cool pillow. The tickle of her hair on his neck, spilling over his shoulder to his forearm.

I have a book now. Progress.

Otogi slept with the hard line of the book digging into his chest and stomach.

xxx

Darkness. Well, almost darkness. He could see the first blue of morning light in the cracks between the window frame and the shades. It could be five or six in the morning. School. He closed his eyes, hating school in that one second, wanting nothing more than to stay in bed, warm and happy.

She was there, sharing the warmth. More than a delusion; he felt the depression in the bed where her weight was centered, her warmth on his back, the hair caught in the crease of his inner elbow. The soft whisper of her breathing on the back of his neck.

Otogi tried to flip all the way onto his stomach, but the sharp corner of his forgotten geometry book pushed up into his diaphragm and knocked his wind out of his lungs. A white lightning strike of pain shot through his guts. He coughed and shoved the book away; it landed on the floor with a loud _boom_ that probably woke someone up. He had used the last of his early morning energy for that one fantastic feat, and burrowed back into his sheets. Back to her.

But she was more responsible than he was, and she reached over and turned his alarm clock to face him. It was five minutes to his alarm. _Come on,_ she said, her voice as sweet as the larks singing outside, _you could have breakfast with an extra five minutes_.

Toast would be nice.

Finally planting his feet on the cold floor, Otogi hurried for the bathroom. His feet barely hit the floor. She ran behind him, half-racing him to the door, the both of them laughing breathlessly, silently, because somebody was sleeping somewhere and they shouldn't be woken up.

The water he splashed on his face was lukewarm despite the fact that he only had the cold faucet on. He ignored it, blaming it on bad pipes, and rubbed his cheeks until he was passably awake. He brushed his teeth, a little lax when he flossed because there was toast to be had.

He was still shrugging on his uniform's blazer when he went into the kitchen. She looked smug, like getting him up early enough for breakfast was a great achievement. Maybe it was, these days, when he was late more than not and considered lying in a puddle of self-pity good fun. At least compared to everything else.

_You are not worthless, Otogi_, she said as he spread preservatives on his toast, which was a little undercooked but still alright.

I never said I was. It wasn't even self-pity, really – it was just…

His alarm went off, shocking him out of his half-dream. She was gone, but the taste of the preservatives still lingered on the back of his tongue, though he could not feel the seeds anywhere in his mouth.

He looked at the clock, and realized he was seven minutes passed his alarm.

xxx

There were plenty of others if he ever really wanted a girlfriend. He was popular; people liked talking to him (though as of late they found him a tad bit depressing and quiet) and often sought him out if he was trying to sit alone. Though he tried to tell himself that he wanted to be alone, and continue the progress made at home, his friends chased all of that away and made him forget it. Though it seemed to cheapen his problems, it was good to laugh again.

Today he clung to his self-doubt like a stubborn bulldog when Yugi came over to invite him to wherever he and the others were going. The memory of her was fresh on his mind, and he knew if he were to go out, especially today, it would all shatter and he would be back at square one.

But when his refusal was weak and unsure, Jonouchi pounced, grabbing him in a loose headlock. "Come on, man! You've been looking down; just for a little while!"

Maybe if he had said something more coercive, something like _well you gotta come_. But no; they were simply worried. Otogi suddenly felt obligated to go. Maybe it would even be good for him.

But no, it wasn't. There was that one, Honda, who was nice enough and had never wronged him in any way, who was amusing and friendly like all of them. Otogi was probably sure he had never done anything to anyone, probably saved kittens on the weekend and traveled to foreign countries as an ambassador and made peace. But it did not matter; Otogi felt this burning hatred that was so intense that it made his tongue writhe in his mouth, trying to hold back all of the irrational things he wanted to scream. It made everything Honda said annoying, made everything he did seem irritating, even though what was irritating about drinking orange juice in the morning?

There was something about his po

sition in this tightly knit group of friends that somehow made his advances more earnest. As if, him being Jonouchi's best friend made everything better about the fact that he was pining after his sister.

_Fuck_, he hated him. Look at that; who the fuck drinks orange juice in the morning?

The rest of the day was the same, though luckily Otogi had very few classes with them. He tried to focus on the others, the ones who didn't cause unreasonable annoyance in him. He hoped and prayed that none of them noticed the way he sometimes glared at Honda, or the occasional scoff when he said something completely normal and Otogi perceived it as the worst thing any horse's ass had ever said. He _knew_ he was being insane, and he hated himself because of it, but…

_Don't be so sad, Otogi,_ she said as he walked beside him, despite the fact that she wasn't even old enough for high school yet – she had one year more. But that did not matter. He had spent a class daydreaming about asking her out on a simple date, and the _yes_ that had followed had been so uplifting. He had almost been completely civil to Honda afterwards, until he realized that he had not won this odd race he had somehow mentally challenged him to. Then whatever reconciliation that had been happening in his mind went straight to shit.

How could he not be a little distressed? He was pretty sure he was going mad. And if not, then at least turning into some form of stalker.

At least his own emotional disturbances distracted him from the plans he had made at the end of the day, but when the last bell rang and he left the school with the sole intention of walking home, Yugi and the others were there to snag him.

"Forget about us?" Yugi asked innocently. Otogi let out an nervous bark of laugher, as if Yugi had a gun on him.

"A little. Busy day and all." But he followed anyway.

He lingered behind the main group, not talking much, looking at his own feet as he walked. Yugi tried to get him in the conversation once or twice, but it was about something that did not interest him, and he didn't mind much. She was there, talking to him, encouraging him. _This is not a sickness, Otogi. You are not harming anyone. It is simply company_.

Oh how he wished it wasn't.

The train station alerted them to its almost immediate presence with a strong, shrieking whistle. Otogi jerked from surprise, snapped from his own world, and looked up.

Of course she was there. That was what this detour was about – Jonouchi needed to pick up his sister before they went wherever they were going. She came off the train, having a little trouble with the last, tallest step. Her brother helped her down, and she laughed. Seeing her in the flesh seemed to make his reality tilt; someone had shoved a full sized sedan into a thimble without compressing anything.

Out in the open, instead of in his mind, Shizuka looked slightly different than the phantom in his head. Less radiant, less outgoing; completely oblivious to him. It almost crushed him. He struggled to take in another breath.

How could it be unhealthy if the reality made him feel like this?

xxx

aaaa, bad ending, but I needed to finish this up before my Italian class.

So limerence is actually a thing; it's when you love someone and want them to return those feelings so badly that it becomes an obsession. People like this often have fantasies concerning that person, usually non-sexual fantasies. Because now that I'm nineteen I really, _really_ can't do anything too sexual with like sixteen year olds. (Which I never really did before but still).

And yes, everything I write must be uncomfortable in _some way_. Otogi's feels are creepy.


End file.
